


cafune

by Singofsolace



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Romance, magical mishaps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:26:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23370166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Singofsolace/pseuds/Singofsolace
Summary: Sabrina makes a potion, but it isn't quite right. Zelda offers to clean it up. When Marie startles her, a magical mishap ensues, but she's more than willing to help make it better.Cafune: the act of tenderly running your fingers through the hair of someone you love.
Relationships: Marie LaFleur (Chilling Adventures of Sabrina)/Zelda Spellman, Zelda Spellman/Mambo Marie
Comments: 21
Kudos: 84
Collections: Mambo Marie March





	cafune

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: While it seems a bit silly to credit Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa as the owner of these characters, considering he himself stole/borrowed/recreated them, let's give it a go.
> 
> I do not own these characters. They belong to Archie Comics, which sent Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa himself a cease and desist for his blatant fanfic-turned-play, "Archie's Weird Fantasy," not too long ago. Please do not sue me; I am an unemployed adjunct professor writing fanfiction purely for entertainment purposes. I have very little money, but a whole lot of love for complicated female characters. While I do not wish to be sued, I would very much enjoy being given a position as show-runner for writing some great fanfic. I eagerly await your email.

Zelda Spellman didn’t know what she had done to deserve these women in her life.

All day, Hilda had been nagging her to go outside and get some fresh air, despite the thick mist that had descended over Greendale. Weather be blessed, Hilda thought she was spending far too much time cooped up in the library, poring over Hesiod’s _Theogeny_ and various tomes on the occult so that she might draw up a doctrine for the Order of Hecate. Her sister only relented when Zelda mentioned that the Cain Pit was back in working order, and that she wasn’t above killing her to get some peace and quiet.

It was an empty threat—Zelda was not about to take her sister’s life for granted ever again—but _Hilda_ didn’t need to know that.

Marie, who had been spending more and more evenings (that often stretched into mornings… and afternoons) at the Spellman Mortuary, was also constantly reminding Zelda to take breaks from her books. She kept drifting into the library with a cup of tea or a bowl of soup, insisting that Zelda “feed her body as well as her mind,” which sounded much more enticing in French than in English. Sometimes they would talk about Zelda’s research as she drank her tea, but often the short break turned into a long one, involving Zelda bent over the desk, with Mambo Marie’s skilled mouth and fingers making a well-reasoned argument for setting the doctrine aside until… further notice.

But it was Sabrina who was really the one driving Zelda slowly but surely insane. The girl was wreaking all sorts of havoc on their stock of potions ingredients, trying to keep busy to ensure that she didn’t dwell too long on what had happened in the past few months. Hilda was teaching their niece everything she knew about potions—which Zelda would begrudgingly admit was a vast amount, even perhaps superior to her own.

But when Hilda was gone and Sabrina was left to her own devices to “practice,” things got out of hand, and forced Zelda to be the one to endure the consequences of having a teenage Nephilim in the house.

“Auntie Zee? I’m sorry to bother you, but I need help,” Sabrina said, hovering in the doorway of the library with a nervous expression. “I’d ask Aunt Hilda but she’s bringing muffins to Dr. Cee.”

Zelda sighed as she closed her book, pinching the bridge of her nose. Truly, she needed a break anyway. Her eyes were beginning to blur, which made reading Ancient Greek near-impossible.

“What do you need help with?” said Zelda, lighting a cigarette as she stood up.

Rather than answer, Sabrina led her to the kitchen, where a pot was set to simmer.

“It’s a growth potion,” said Sabrina, giving the soup-like mixture a stir. “Aunt Hilda planted a marigold tree and it isn’t growing, so I thought I might help it along.”

“Some things are best left to nature,” said Zelda, examining the contents of the pot. Clearly, Sabrina hadn’t read the recipe all the way through. The potion was far too pale. It was meant to be a deep midnight color, smooth as glass, but instead it was gray and bubbling.

“What am I doing wrong?” said Sabrina, slamming the spoon down with more force than necessary.

“Did you check the lunar chart?” asked Zelda, though she already knew her niece hadn’t.

Sabrina furrowed her brow. “Why would I do that?”

Zelda sighed. Clearly, she had failed to give Sabrina even a basic education in the highest of arts, though that was mostly intentional, due to the fact that she didn’t want her young niece to accidentally reveal the fact that they were a family of witches to the whole town as she grew up. “If you want the best results, certain potions should only be brewed under a new moon. Growth potions are generally rather temperamental when made at any other time.”

“Why didn’t it say that in the book?” grumbled Sabrina, turning off the burner of the stove.

Zelda refrained from saying that the reason was because it was such basic knowledge, the witch who wrote it probably assumed it went without saying. “Why don’t you go gather some new ingredients? Perhaps the issue is with the soil. I can teach you how to make a potion that heals the ground, if you’d like?”

Sabrina gave her a look that was half hope and half confusion. “I mean… I would. It’s just, it’s late, and I’m kind of tired… and we don’t even know if that would work. Also, I know you’re doing… important stuff. I wouldn’t want to waste your time.”

Zelda felt a wave of shame, and no small amount of self-loathing, at the thought that Sabrina considered spending time with her either or a burden or a “waste.”

“Sabrina, come here,” said Zelda, putting out her cigarette before extending her arms. At first, Sabrina looked at her like she didn’t understand, which made Zelda’s stomach twist with her failure as a mother, but when she started moving closer, with her arms wide open for an embrace, Sabrina caught on.

It felt good to hold her niece in her arms again. The last time they had done this was when that mortal boy had broken her heart—or rather, Sabrina had broken her _own_ heart, by failing to recognize that her actions would have dire consequences.

As Sabrina nestled into her chest, Zelda tightened her grip. She wanted to remember this moment—the feel of her niece in her arms on just a normal, average day, with no big disasters in sight.

“Now you listen to me, Sabrina,” said Zelda into her niece’s hair. “Spending time with you is never a waste of my time. Just because I have a lot of work to do, doesn’t mean I want you to feel like you aren’t important to me. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Auntie,” said Sabrina, pulling away a little bit so that they could see each other. “I know. I really do want you to teach me that potion—but I wasn’t lying. I spent all day trying to make this one… and I think I just want to go to bed.”

Zelda placed a kiss on Sabrina’s head. “I understand. Go get some sleep. I’ll clean this up.”

Sabrina gave her a grateful smile before turning and leaving the kitchen. Zelda cast her eyes around, trying to locate her box of cigarettes. She only looked for a few moments before she gave them up for lost, and moved back to the stove.

Really, Sabrina had made a valiant effort. The growth potion would probably work, despite the moon not being in the proper phase, but the problem lied in the _rate_ of growth. It’s possible that it would either cause the magnolia to shoot up like a rocket, or else grow so slowly as to render the potion pointless.

As Zelda moved the pot from the stove to the sink, she was scared out of her skin by an unexpected hand landing on her shoulder.

“Ma _ch_ _érie_!”

Zelda dropped the pot with a yelp, causing some of the potion to fly up towards her face. She managed to shield her eyes, nose, and mouth from the liquid, but her hair was absolutely soaked.

“ _Désolé! Mon dieu, je suis désolé_ , I did not mean to frighten you, Zelda.”

Zelda quickly vanished the liquid from her hair, but she knew the damage was done. She needed to be alone; she didn’t want Marie to see what would come next. “Never sneak up on a witch, Marie. Thank Hecate the potion wasn’t a more volatile one. You could have killed us both.”

Marie’s face fell. “I did not think, _ch_ _érie_. But all is well, _non_?”

“ _Non_ ,” said Zelda, hurrying around Marie and out of the kitchen.

“What is wrong, Zelda? Where are you going?”

“You’ve done quite enough, Marie,” Zelda said as she scaled the stairs. “I need a moment.”

“But I can help—whatever is wrong, there must be something I can do?”

Zelda could already feel her hair growing towards her elbows as she made it to the door of her room. “I don’t want you seeing me until the potion wears off.”

But it was too late. Zelda could see that Marie was already distracted by her red curls growing longer by the second. “Zelda, _tes_ _cheveux_ …!”

Feeling heat rise to her face, Zelda pushed the door open, heading toward her vanity. “Is it terrible?”

“ _Non_ …” said Marie, her eyes wide with wonder as the hair continued to grow down to Zelda’s waist.

“You’re a terrible liar, Marie,” said Zelda, sitting down in front of the mirror and sighing. “The good news is, I don’t think the potion is going to last very long. Sabrina made a mistake in the brewing process. It shouldn’t last longer than an hour or two, and it shouldn’t grow very long. I would have needed to be splashed with the whole cauldron for it to truly be a problem.”

Marie came to stand behind her, so that both of their reflections could be seen in the mirror. Slowly, so as not to startle Zelda again, she reached out to touch the hair. “It is beautiful, _ch_ _érie_.”

Zelda snorted as she took up her brush. “It’s absurd. Impractical.”

Marie shook her head. “I wish you could see how _I_ see you, _ma belle_.”

Zelda struggled to run her brush all the way from the top of her head to the bottom of her hair. It had grown all the way to her ankles, but the rate was already starting to slow down. Marie took the brush from Zelda, and went to work detangling the long red waves of hair.

Zelda couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by the intimacy of the gesture. The only other person who had ever combed her hair was Hilda, and even then, she hadn’t done it since they were children. She found it unexpectedly soothing, to feel Marie’s solid presence behind her, brushing through the curls in such a reverent way.

“Would you like me to braid it for you?” said Marie, once she had thoroughly combed through the majority of the hair.

“Don’t be silly,” said Zelda, shaking her head, though she regretted the gesture, now that the hair had grown to such a length that it was putting weight on her head, neck, and shoulders.

“It is not silly, _ma ch_ _érie_. It is… how you say… ‘practical.’”

Zelda was distracted by Marie’s face in the mirror. There was pure adoration in her expression. It was terrifying, but also… nice.

“I suppose that would be… fine,” said Zelda, nodding her approval.

Marie’s eyes sparkled as she gathered the hair in her hands, and then began to split it into three sections. “ _Bon_.”

Marie’s fingers were like magic as they braided her hair, working at an expert rhythm that suggested Marie had done this before. As she ran her fingers through the strands, Marie hummed a tune. By the time Marie was done, Zelda could feel tears pricking at her eyes. Never before had she felt so safe. So cared for. So… loved.

“Thank you, Marie,” Zelda said, turning her head this way and that to look at the braid in the mirror. “That’s much better.”

“Do not thank me,” said Marie, bending over Zelda’s shoulder to place a chaste kiss on her cheek. “I am the one to blame, after all.”

“You’re not to blame,” said Zelda, turning in her seat so that they could face each other. “It was an accident. No harm done. There are worse things than long hair.”

“Do you like it, _mon coeur_?” said Marie, placing a gentle hand on Zelda’s cheek. Zelda turned her head into the hand to place a kiss on Marie’s palm.

“I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written in response to the fourth week of Mambo Marie March: Magical Mishaps. I was also sent a tumblr prompt for the word "cafune," so I merged the two together. Please let me know what you think! I struggled to write this one, so it would be great to hear if people enjoyed this piece or not.


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